


take home box

by ficfucker



Series: rhink drabbles, ficlets, & fluff [6]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Breakfast, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: rhett & link go out for waffles





	take home box

**Author's Note:**

> kind of a follow up to "waffles are for lovers"

Rhett’s legs are almost too long to fit under the table. To accommodate properly, Rhett has to slot his knees between Link’s in a woven leg to leg position. 

 

“Tea here good?” Link asks. 

 

Rhett smiles, shakes his head. He wrinkles his nose dramatically. “Nope,” he says. He’s just happy to be with Link. He doesn’t care what he’s drinking. 

 

Link smiles back, sets his chin on his knuckles. His eyes are fantasicly blue today, bright behind the dark rims of his glasses. “Shoulda gotten the hot chocolate like I said.” 

 

“Linkster knows best.” 

 

The diner they’re at is relatively empty, only a few other folks at tables, but no one seated directly next to them. Link is still in one of Rhetts’s block-color sweaters. He’s also wearing a pair of Rhett’s boxers under his grey jeans, ones printed with little fir trees, and that fills Rhett with a quiet sense of ownership; knowing Link is wearing his clothes, that they’re partners and are sharing things like that so intimately. 

 

Rhett sips his tea, looks at Link over the rim of his mug. He’s going through the small silver basket at their table and switching the plastic containers of prepackaged jellies so they’re organized by flavor, all stacked upright. 

 

“You’re a doofus, you know,” Rhett says softly. He means it as the highest term of endearment, the warm, honeyed feeling of looking at someone doing something so typical or ordinary you are overwhelmed by the simple thought of "I love you" washing over him. 

 

Link looks up and pushes his glasses back into place with his left thumb. “Yer a bigger doofus, doofus. Drinkin’ your nasty tea over there.” 

 

“Nas- _ tea _ .” 

 

Link giggles, says, “Nas- _ tea _ ,” and goes back to his jelly. He moves the ketchup and mustard bottles, too, so they’re even against the glass sugar container, all the things at their table lined perfect like little soldiers awaiting orders. 

 

The waitress comes over and serves them their waffles: Link’s with strawberries in syrup and Rhett’s with banana, chocolate chips, and whipped cream. They thank her and Rhett orders a hot chocolate. 

 

“Dang, man, look at these!” Link grins, gestures at the two full plate size waffles. 

 

“Waffles were a good choice, I’d say.” Rhett sits at attention, picking up his fork and knife, and his knees bump Link under the table. 

 

Link nudges him back, forks a big chunk of syrup-pink waffle into his mouth. “Playin’ footsie with me?”

 

Rhett nods. He’s already got two banana slices in his mouth, his moustache catching thin white wisps of the whipped cream. 

 

Link casually drops his left hand under the table and squeezes Rhett’s thigh. “Think you’ll be able to finish this whole thing?” 

 

“Oh, no doubt.” 

 

Link scoffs. “I think yer eyes might be bigger than your stomach on this one, bo.” Link hovers his right hand over his waffle, spreads his fingers for a size comparison. “Though I guess I should know better than to doubt you when it comes to food, huh?” 

 

Rhett pretends to beat his chest like a gorilla. “Me hungry for waffle,” he says in a gruff caveman voice, which gets Link to giggle again. 

 

Fingers drum on Rhett’s thigh under the table. Rhett gets the message and slinks his left hand down, grips Link palm to palm. Even after 35 years, Rhett’s heart does a flip when Link runs his thumb over the back of his hand. And Link does it absently, a habitual motion as if Rhett has a groove there from all the times him and Link have held hands and Link has swept his thumb over the little bump of bone where his thumb connects to his wrist. 

 

The waitress returns with Rhett’s hot chocolate, asks, “You boys finding everything okay?” and when they nod enthusiastically, she goes to bus other tables. 

 

Rhett cuts off a little slice of waffle with the edge of his fork, careful not to include any banana, and offers it out to Link. Link looks up, blinks, and takes it into his mouth. He smiles, licks the corner of his lips. “Das good, Rhett. ‘Specially the chocolate bits.” He starts readying a fork in return. “Here.” 

 

The waffle is soggy in a way that Rhett likes, sweet as nectar with all the strawberry syrup that has soaked into it, and he nods approvingly. “Good choices on both our parts.” 

 

Link squeezes his hand before snaking it away to sip his coffee. Rhett takes the opportunity to try his hot chocolate which has been cooling next to him. 

 

Link blows on his coffee, which probably does not need to be blown on given the length of time it’s been sitting out, and pauses. He gives Rhett a particular look then says, “Beard looks good, love.” 

 

Rhett smiles, smug. He scratches his chin. “Gettin’ up for maintaince was worth it. Always is.” 

 

Link looks down at his waffle, which is less than halfway gone. Rhett has only about a quarter left, the mound of whipped cream starting to sag into a pillowy mush, his chocolate chips sinking into it, indented so it looks like honeycomb. 

 

“Gunna need a take home box for all this,” Link says.

 

“ _ You _ might.” 

 

“You think they got boxes big enough to fit you in? Wanna make sure you’re included in my take home.” 

 

Rhett snorts and smiles. “Man, you’re lucky yer not single. That how you’d pick me up?” 

 

Link nods confidently, slurps some of his coffee. “Yep. An’ I guarantee it’d work.” 

 

Rhett watches Link for a beat. He’s busied himself again with cutting his waffle into precise portions, probably so it will fit in neat stacks in the take out box, holding his knife and fork like he’s a surgeon about to operate. Rhett’s heart warms looking at him. “I bet it’d work. You’d win me over.” 

 

Link sucks a strawberry half into his mouth. “I know it.” 

  
  


"Linkster knows best," Rhett repeats. 

 

They continue to eat in a comfortable silence and Rhett considers how lucky he is. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos + comments if you enjoyed!
> 
> talk to me on tmblr @ficfucker


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